


V is for Valor

by iamsonny_j



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:09:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamsonny_j/pseuds/iamsonny_j
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve first sees Bucky's name on a SHIELD memorial a few weeks after the battle of New York...</p>
            </blockquote>





	V is for Valor

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to go with a piece of fanart I made (they kind of came together at the same time really.) I wanted to do a piece of memorial art of Bucky. The idea of Steve doing the art came quickly after that.  
> http://iamsonny-j.tumblr.com/post/123669272006/watercolour-pencil-on-cartridge-paper-v-is-for

**V Is For Valor**

The first time Steve sets foot into a SHIELD facility voluntarily, meaning not one where he is to be held after coming out of the ice, it’s a few weeks since the battle of New York. The storm of chaos has died down, Thor has gone back to Asgard, Stark is making repairs to areas destroyed in the battle a priority, and Steve has no place to be anymore and no purpose. That’s why he ends up in Washington. That’s why he takes up Fury on the offer of leading his own team of SHIELD agents. If he has to survive in the modern world he’s going to do what he was made to do; be a soldier and fight, until he can’t fight anymore.

No one just walks into a SHIELD facility undetected or unregistered. Steve knows there are at least six Agents targeted on him. It’s to be expected. He still feels like an anomaly even to himself in this new world. He’s arrived early and he knows that every other Agent in the facility is twitching uneasy in his presence. With a sickening feeling in his stomach, Steve realises that these Agents are the first line of defence, the cannon fodder; the ones not quite good enough to be out in the field. Sure, there are two snipers, one to his 2 o’clock and one to his 10 o’clock, probably two of the best, but the rest are minimal threat. There might not be any ranks by title here, but it’s still there.

Sitting down on the seats in the entrance hall would feel too vulnerable, and he feels to restless to sit still for longer than a few seconds anyway. Instead he just stands nearby and waits. He tries hard to forget the eyes that keep making an effort not to rest on him for more than half a second. His own gaze wanders to land on the walled monument in the middle of the entrance hall. He hadn’t considered it on first entering the building, but his mind had been preoccupied with additional thoughts such as potential exits, threat level, and casualty risks if things were to go wrong. As he walks over he concentrates on the words above the smaller inscriptions.

‘Wall of Valor,’ A memorial to fallen SHIELD Agents. Not just SHIELD agents, but those that came before serving with the SSR. Steve had spent a lot of time catching up in the few weeks since coming out of the ice. Visiting Peggy was the first thing he did when he was finally released back into the outside world and found out she was still alive. She’d done so much, so much with her life. Steve never knew if the tears that always threatened to come to his eyes when he thought of her achievements were from pride, or for sadness for where she was now. So many things were better in the future, but life could still be so cruel.

His eyes scan down the columns reading the names. There are no details of their service or how they died, only the badge of their unit. It’s stab in the heart whenever he reads a name that he recognises under a badge of the SSR. History tells Steve that the war had ended in 1945; the names of people he knew on this wall told him otherwise. It makes him wonder just how many conflicts he needs to survive before he’ll be able to rest in peace. How many bullies would he have to face in a world where the bullies are getting so much harder to define?

He is getting better at swallowing the guilt about feeling this way. Every piece of his self tells him he should be grateful for being alive...It just never tells him why. That’s why he hopes getting back in the world and serving again will bring back that sense of purpose he used to crave so much.

As he continues to read each name in his head, trying to recall faces for those he recognises, he lets the pain consume him for a bit, but no amount of hurt was preparation enough for reading the name of the person whose loss he felt the most.

‘SGT. James B. Barnes. SSR.’

\---

Three days later Steve is back at SHIELD. He lingers in front of the Wall of Valor, A4 brown envelope held close to his chest. His unexpected presence has disturbed the feeling within the building. His status as an employee of SHIELD is still very fresh and has a buzz attached to it. Steve doesn’t really care for that, not right now, not when he has this to do.

He is just removing a piece of paper from the envelope but he is removed from his bubble when he is addressed smoothly from behind.

“Captain Rogers.” Steve turns on his heal and does well not to tense up as much as his instincts are telling him to.

“Agent Romanov.”

Natasha waits, as if giving Steve the chance to say more, but they both just end up standing in silence for several moments. It’s an unspoken competition of trying to read the other and not be read themselves; Steve knows he’s fighting a losing battle, but he still holds his ground. Eventually Natasha nods attention back to the wall in front of her.

“It was at Agent Carter’s specific request that a Wall of Valor be erected in all SHIELD facilities to honour those who gave their lives in the line of duty. She was very clear about that.”

“Fury sent you down to check up on me?”

Natasha let’s no expression cross her face as she says nothing for a moment and then continues as if without interruption, “Most of the agents on here couldn’t be given a public memorial which could honour their services, due to the secrecy of their missions and the protection of the population. In the days of the SSR and the newly founded SHIELD, when agents were still permitted a family life, even they wouldn’t know the details. Everything was always erased. The last indication of an agent’s existence will die on this wall.”

“Do they teach you that speech when you join up or is it something you privately rehearsed for me?” Steve asks.

Natasha slowly smiles, but still gives very little away, “A small amount of both. You’re not interested in the history lesson, or I would have gone into more detail. You’re here because of Sergeant Barnes, and I’m here because my orders are to secure you your privacy for the next thirty minutes.”

Steve takes a moment to observe his surroundings once more and finds that every agent previously distracted by his presence is now back on task. The only eyes he can feel on him now are Natasha’s. Steve looks at her sincerely and let’s go of the fight left hanging on inside of him, “Thank you.”

He knows Natasha is looking at the painting as he pulls it completely from the envelope, but he makes no effort to hide it now. He lets his gaze linger on the captured features of Bucky’s face on the paper in front of him and smiles sadly.

“Agent Carter made sure no one’s sacrifice went unrecognised, going as far to posthumously make agents of those who gave their lives on mission for the SSR while serving with the US Army,” Natasha explains.

Steve sighs.

“Bucky never wanted the recognition. He never wanted to be thought of as more than any of the men under his command. He wanted to do the job well, keep everyone alive and, at the end of it all, get everyone home. In the end he has to be given most of the credit for achieving that; all the Howling Commandoes did make it home. I saw how much belief they had in Bucky and how they didn’t hesitate to trust their lives in his hands. He never broke that,” Steve said, and then in only thoughts he adds, ‘but I did,’ as he places the painting at the foot of the memorial. When he stands back up he adds, “Bucky was fighting for people like me...Like how I used to be.”

He can feel Natasha’s stare move from him to the painting, where it lingers for maybe just a beat too long, “You paint well.”

Steve smiles in acknowledgement, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes, “I never got the chance to draw him in uniform. We were always so busy; always on the move. We were never around for an occasion for dress uniform.”

“I’m sure he would have worn it for you if you’d asked,” Natasha says knowingly.

Steve shakes his head but adds, “Maybe. He didn’t have the same air of confidence after,” Steve makes a half gesture for ‘everything’ with his hands to indicate what he didn’t want to explain.

“Even with you?”

“A lot had changed. We were very different people almost the moment we set foot outside of Brooklyn.”

Steve almost absently let’s his fingers trace over the engraved letter’s of Bucky’s name. It seems wrong to feel upset that this is all Bucky has for his sacrifice; just an etching on a memorial and falsely researched chapters in dusty history books, but he knows that if it wasn’t for Peggy then he wouldn’t even have that. Steve swallows hard. Bucky was so young; he had so much life left to give. Everytime he experiences something new in this time he thinks about how much Bucky would love it; he always did love science and technology. Instead he’s just this name on a wall. This is as close as closure gets.

 When Steve finally looks back at Natasha he realises he has given away more than he feels comfortable with. He’s left his vulnerabilities visible and open. He tries to back up on his emotions and takes a step back from the memorial, placing his hands deep into his pockets and looking away. Natasha doesn’t say anything, but Steve knows she doesn’t have to. He pastes a forced smile onto his face before turning his body back to look at her properly.

“When Bucky fell I couldn’t get used to the idea that there wouldn’t be a place to remember him. I’m glad that he has this.”

He turns and starts to walk away, without looking back, leaving the painting at the foot of the wall. He doesn’t see Natasha pick it up and stash it carefully in her jacket a few minutes later.

 


End file.
